Yours, Mine, and Victoria's Secret
by givemekevinbacon
Summary: It's Valentines Day, and Cuddy somehow finds herself shopping for a wedding dress that isn't hers and doing a single load of laundry. Tag to Only Fools Rush In. Huddy, with a special guest appearance!


_A/N: hello hello! I'd been planning on writing a valentine's day fic, and I just couldn't resist stepping back into this little universe. If you haven't read Only Fools Rush In, the story will still make sense, just skip over the first scene (although, shameless plug: go read it!). Fair warning: this is probably one of the dirtiest (and shortest, probably) smut scenes I have ever written._

_update on other projects: my next multi chapter fic is coming along nicely. I've begun work on chapter five, and I hope to start posting once I've finished at least 9 chapters. I expect it to be around 12 total. Look for it sometime in March, and feel free to contact me with any questions you have or if you simply want to chat. _

_I hope you all have a lovely Valentine's or Galentine's, or Palentine's Day-whatever you may be celebrating!_

* * *

Cuddy took a long sip from her champagne, watching as Amelia frowned into the mirror in front of her. Rachel sat next to her, taking light sips from her glass as well; the saleswoman hadn't asked the seventeen year-old if she was twenty-one, and after a pleading look from her daughter, Cuddy had decided to turn a blind eye.

"It's so—" Cuddy began, pausing halfway through her statement to purse her lips, her eyes squinting as she got a better look.

Amelia sighed, turning around face the two of them.

"White?" she offered, throwing her arms out to the side. "I mean I get that it's a wedding dress, but _come_ _on_."

"There's too much tool," said Rachel. "And this isn't the right type of dress for you, you're too tall. You need something that just kind of…flows."

Amelia groaned. "Is there any particular reason we decided to look for my wedding dress on Valentine's Day? This place is crawling with annoying future Mrs. Investment Banker."

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"Amelia, we're shopping for your wedding dress, it doesn't matter when or where we go, there are going to be brides everywhere."

"But they just seem to be on steroids today," she muttered, turning to look in the mirror once more. "Why don't we leave? Get coffee, or lunch, or anything at all really. Why don't we take Rachel shopping instead? She loves shopping."

"So do you," said Rachel, giving her a pointed glare as she got up and picked up one of the dresses they had picked out for Amelia to try on. "Here," she said, handing it to her. "Try this one, Mom and I picked it out."

"Fine," she answered. "But if this one doesn't work, I'm wearing a paper bag."

"I have just the shoes to go with that," Cuddy mused, taking another sip of her champagne.

"I thought wedding dress shopping was supposed to be fun?" Rachel asked, disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm in the room. "Mom, were you as miserable as she is?"

"I was close definitely a close second." Amelia scoffed, and Cuddy turned her head, giving her friend a playful glare. "It was an event, to say the least," she clarified.

"Your mother was drunk by the end of the day!" called Amelia from the dressing room as she struggled to get the next dress on.

Rachel stifled a laugh, setting her glass of champagne down on the table in front of them as she turned towards her mother, eyebrows raised and an amused look on her face.

"I was not drunk," said Cuddy, pursing her lips. "Tipsy, maybe. Sometimes alcohol is the only way to deal with your grandmother."

Amelia poked her head out from the dressing room, a smile on her face. "Why don't I just wear your wedding dress? Your dress was pretty."

Rachel glared at her. "Mom's dress would be three inches too short on you and you wouldn't fill it out. Are you going to come out so we can see it or are we going to have to come in there with you?"

"Champagne makes her sassy," said Amelia.

"I think somebody is in a rush to get home," said Cuddy, giving her daughter a look.

"Does_ somebody_ have plans with her boyfriend tonight?" Amelia teased

Rachel's cheeks flushed as a small smile formed on her lips. "We're just going to a party," she said, shrugging them off. "It's not a big deal."

"He's taking you to dinner first, right?" asked Cuddy, raising her eyebrows and folding her arms over her chest.

"He _may_ have mentioned something like that," said Rachel reluctantly.

"Good boy," said Amelia, opening up the curtain. "So, what do we think? It doesn't want to make me throw up, so that's a bonus. And Joey will pretty much love whatever I wear, so, you guys are the deciding vote."

She gave them a weak smile, watching as they sat there wide-eyed. The dress was tight fitting throughout the bodice, eventually flowing into a small pool at her feet. The cream colored gown was covered in a subtle lace detail with an open back and a sweetheart neckline that hung off her shoulders in capped sleeves.

"You look beautiful," said Cuddy, taking a deep breath and getting up from her seat.

"It's perfect," said Rachel, beaming up at her.

Amelia nodded, a smile on her face as she turned towards the mirror. "I never pictured myself in a wedding dress," she said softly. "Let alone in a lace one."

She twirled around and lifted a hand to her mouth, doing her best to suppress a smile.

"And I was thinking, maybe a birdcage veil?" she asked. "You know, nothing too over the top."

Amelia swept her blonde hair up into a messy low bun, and Rachel got up, rushing over to a display case. She picked one up that was attached to a diamond encrusted brooch and rushed back over to them, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she giddily walked over.

Rachel walked over to Amelia and stood on her tiptoes—even in heels she was a few inches shorter—and placed the veil in her hair, situating it perfectly askew.

"And I could do your hair and makeup if you want," sad Rachel. "There are some looks I've been dying to try out on someone."

Amelia nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "Trial run this weekend? We can send Joey and House out on a man date and watch old sappy romantic movies. Maybe we can even convince your mom to let us turn it into a wine and cupcake party," said Amelia, winking at Cuddy.

Cuddy let out a slight laugh, shaking her head. "We'll have to see about that one."

"Please," said Rachel, scoffing at the thought as she took a sip of her champagne, "House has been slipping me wine since I was fifteen."

Cuddy scoffed, turning towards her daughter. "Don't think I don't know about all the secrets the two of you _think_ you're keeping from me," she said, giving Rachel a pointed look.

The three of them laughed, and Amelia sighed contently as she took one last look in the mirror. She took a deep breath, running her hands down the dress as she smoothed it, her fingers tracing the lace detail.

"I'm getting married," she whispered.

* * *

"House?" Cuddy called as she walked in the door, her arms full of shopping bags—they'd decided that Amelia wasn't the only one who deserved a little retail therapy. "Are you here? I dropped Rachel off at Emma's and I think she's gone for the night."

Cuddy walked through the hall of her home, throwing her bags onto the kitchen table.

"So I was thinking we could just stay in. It's too late to get a reservation anywhere that's halfway decent anyway," she said under her breath.

She paused, furrowing her brow; it usually didn't take him this long to respond. She frowned, unhooking her arms from the bags as she turned around.

Cuddy jumped, lifting a hand to her chest and closing her eyes as she saw him standing in front of her, a wicked grin on his face.

"You scared me," she said, shoving him playfully in the shoulder.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, leaning in for a slight kiss. She gripped his shoulder, her fingers curling around his bicep as she pressed her lips against his. "Hi," she murmured, her fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smirked, pulling away from her. "I'm just the gift that keeps on giving. Speaking of which," he said, taking her hand in his. "Come with me."

"House, what are you—" He led her out of the kitchen, an excited grin on his face. "Where are we going?" she asked, half amused and half concerned, glancing down at their linked hands.

House wasn't one to grab her hand—her ass maybe, but not her hand.

"Bedroom," she stated, giving him a look as they reached their destination. "You are so incredibly predictable," she teased, stepping in front of him.

She reached behind her, turning the knob to the door and pushing it open, her eyes locked on his. She stepped into their bedroom, pulling him in with her.

"Turn around," he said, nudging his head towards the direction of their bed.

She eyed him suspiciously before turning on her heel, walking over to their bed. House followed, grinning in anticipation.

She scoffed as she noticed the red and pink Victoria's Secret bag that was conveniently placed in the middle of the bed.

"I see you bought yourself a present," she said, sitting down on the bed and giving him a sly grin.

"That is not for _me_," he claimed, sitting down next to her. He picked up the bag and handed it to her, watching as a small smile formed on her lips. "It's a present for the both of us. I was serious when I agreed to that whole what's yours is mine thing."

"Yes, our vows were referring to my underwear collection," she said dryly as she started to remove the tissue paper from the bag. "I thought we weren't getting each other presents," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

House rolled his eyes at her guilt.

"I saw this and I couldn't resist," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, everybody knows that _don't get me anything_ is code for _you better get me something or you're an ass_."

"I already know you're an ass," she answered, smiling at him.

"Will you just open the damn present?"

Cuddy bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hide her excitement from him as she removed the remaining tissue paper from the bag. She pulled out a pair of light purple cotton underwear, the back of which was completely lace.

She let out a slight laugh as she noticed the words _Party! Party! Party! _were stitched across the top in gold letters.

"You bought me party pants," she said, her voice full of adoration as she smiled sweetly at him.

"I bought you party pants," he answered.

Cuddy leaned in, pressing her lips to his. He gripped her waist, holding her hips as her hand gravitated towards the back of his neck, pulling him towards her. He could feel her pulse quickening from the hum in her lips, and he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Put them on," he whispered, his hand sneaking up underneath her shirt.

Cuddy cleared her throat and pulled away from him, untangling herself from his gasp.

"I can't," she answered definitively. She took the lavender laced material into her hand, getting up from the bed and ignoring the confused look on House's face.

"Why?" he asked, getting up to follow her.

"Because," she said, pausing at the doorway and turning to face him, hoping against all odds that it was enough of an explanation. She sighed when she saw him raise his eyebrows at her, urging her to continue.

"Because," she reluctantly repeated, "they haven't been washed yet."

"Trust me," said House, eyeing her suspiciously, "they aren't going to be on for very long."

"That's not the point," she answered, staring down at the floor. She knew she was being a tad silly, but this was her one getup—her one thing that she could never get over.

He watched as her forehead began to crinkle and she angrily tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and he smirked, because he could feel a tireless rant coming.

"Think about how many pairs you touched before picking this particular one," she said, a disgusted look on her face. "Do you have any idea how unsanitary that is? Not to mention how many people touched it before it actually got placed on the shelves?"

"You're a doctor—you, you raised a child, you can't be _that_ concerned with sanitation!" he stammered, laughing his way through the statement. He lifted a hand to his face, rubbing it up and down in a semi-frustrated manner.

"House," she said, throwing her hands to the side. "It's not like I'm not wearing underwear right now. We can still have sex."

"It's not the same," he answered.

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"It is absolutely the same!"

"No," he said, walking towards her, "it's not. I wanted to pull_ these_ down your thighs," he said, pointing to the underwear that she was holding in her hand, "not the ones I watched you put on this morning."

Cuddy groaned, watching as he folded his arms across his chest. He could be such a _child_ sometimes.

"A load of laundry takes about an hour and a half," he stated, his feet planted firmly on the ground—he really wasn't going to budge on this.

"Okay," said Cuddy, giving him an incredulous look. "What's your point?"

"I can wait," he answered. "Go wash them."

Cuddy glared at him.

And even though it was the middle of February, and their house was a bit on the cold side, she pulled off her shirt and unzipped her jeans, calling his bluff. She stood there, clad only in the matching black-laced bra and underwear set she had put on this morning, waiting for any sign of movement from him.

His eyes glossed over her practically naked form, and she swore she'd broken him down when he gulped, but he quickly recovered, his feet still glued to the ground.

Cuddy stared him down, cocking her hip out to the side and running a hand through her hair—but he didn't budge one bit.

So she shrugged her shoulders, taking the underwear in her hand and strutting towards him, swaying her hips with as much force as humanly possible.

"Fine," she said, pausing as she reached where she stood. She placed her hand on his forearm, gripping on to him as she lifted herself up on to her tiptoes.

He shuddered a breath when her breasts rubbed up against his shoulder.

Cuddy pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for a moment before running her tongue towards his ear, pausing as she reached the base of his ear lobe. She tugged on it with her teeth, a self-satisfied grin forming on her face as she heard him let out a moan.

"See you in an hour and a half," she whispered.

* * *

Cuddy was pulling open the door to the washer when she heard him walk in. She smirked as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching into the top of their towered washer and dryer.

House tilted his head to the side, watching her ass as her heels lifted off the ground.

"I couldn't resist watching you do laundry half-naked," he said, leaning against the doorway.

"That's because you're a misogynistic asshole," she deadpanned. She picked up the underwear and placed it in the dryer that sat below the washer, making sure to turn the knob to the delicate cycle.

"And you're a clean freak who is teetering on the edge of obsessive compulsion," he teased, limping towards her.

"I see you changed," she fired back, noting his slight change in attire.

He'd rid himself of his jeans and was now only in his loose fitting boxers and the tight white undershirt he wore beneath his button-down.

He smirked at her.

"Didn't want you to feel left out."

Cuddy shook her head, pursing her lips as she folded her arms across her chest. House's eyes widened as she unconsciously squished her breasts together, taunting him with the slight move of her wrist.

"I can't believe you made me wait an hour and a half to have sex," she muttered, darting her eyes to the dryer.

"Me?" asked House, his voice laced with frustration and accusation, "You're the one who insisted you wash them first."

"And you're the one who insisted I wear them! We could have had sex _at least_ twice while these were in the wash."

"I could have made it last an hour and a half," he muttered, glaring at her.

Cuddy scoffed.

"Are you challenging me?" he asked, moving towards her. "Because you shouldn't make that bet unless you're fully prepared to face the consequences."

"I'm the one who can have multiple orgasms," she fired back—and this time she _consciously _squished her boobs together, "you're the one who is at a disadvantage here."

House simply glared at her and then turned on his heel, moving away from her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, throwing her hands out to the side in an irritated fashion.

"To get a stop watch," he muttered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

She took hurried steps towards him, a playful smile on her face as she grabbed his elbow and pulled her back towards him.

"House," she said sincerely, smiling up at him as she murmured, "you lasting an hour and a half would be the opposite of a consequence."

She gazed up at him, lips partly slighted and her hand slowly running up and down his arm. She lifted her heels up once more, going in for a kiss when he abruptly stepped away, shrugging off her advances.

"That is not going to work," he said, catching on to her little game and inwardly cursing himself for not seeing it before. "You can't lure me into your scantily clad lair of laundry and expect me to fold," he quipped.

"Fine," she said, narrowing her eyes at him as she stepped back towards the dryer. "I can wait twenty minutes."

"So can I," he answered immediately, refusing to give up.

Cuddy simply smirked and rested her back against the dryer, drumming her fingers against the side. House stood in the middle of the room, pacing occasionally.

Cuddy let out occasional huffs and House would cast his eyes in her direction as he paced, running a hand through his hair every so often. She would glare back or raise her eyebrows at him, challenging him with every move.

But it was useless; neither one was going to let up.

"We bought Amelia's wedding dress today," Cuddy mused, a dreamy look in her eyes. "It's beautiful, not at all what I pictured her in, but it fits."

House paused his steps, glancing over at her—he knew where this was going, but he couldn't help but listen to her rambles. God, she was captivating to the point of sheer _annoyance. _

"I'm sure you remember my wedding dress," she said, "considering there is a rip in it where you—"

"Yeah I remember," said House, cutting her off. "And just so you know, talking like _that_ isn't going to work either. We're in this for the long haul, baby. The long haul being the next ten minutes. "

"Really, it's not working?" asked Cuddy, lifting her head up and glancing at his boxers, "because from what I can see it seems to be working just like I imagined it would."

House glared back at her and shuddered a breath as she tilted her head to the side, lifting a finger to her chin in a puzzling manner. She then gently bit down on her index finger, and he swore he could have killed her right then and there.

Suddenly the dryer she was leaning against started to wind down it's cycle, and it made an abrupt jolting movement, causing Cuddy to jump away.

House caught her in his arms, her hand gripping right above his wrist as his arm looped around her waist. His thumb pressed into her hip-bone, and her lips parted in response to his touch.

Their eyes met in a smoldering glance.

House hooked his thumb underneath her underwear, pushing her backwards towards the dryer. He kissed her hungrily, their tongues meshing together the second their lips touched. She collided with the cold surface of the dryer, the vibrations from the machine sending shivers down her spine. Cuddy wrapped her arms around his neck, angling herself towards him as she pulled her lips away.

He pushed her underwear down, and she quickly stepped out of them, her hand reaching for the buttons to his boxers. She undid them, not bothering to cast them aside as she took hold of him, her fingers pausing at his tip.

"I thought you said ten more minutes," she said, giving him a questioning look.

House groaned at her touch, wincing as she suddenly removed her hand.

"A little foreplay never hurt anyone," he teased, gripping her thighs.

He hoisted her up so her hands were gripping the edge of the washer and dryer, and she moaned as he brushed up against her, wrapping her legs around his waist but refusing to enter her.

"Is that what this is?" she asked, moving her head to his neck.

She kissed up his jaw, moving her hand from the cold surface and gripping on to his shoulder, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin. He kissed her, his lips crashing against her as he cupped her ass, supporting her weight against the dryer.

The dryer continued its cycle, pushing House and Cuddy even closer towards one another, the sensations causing the both of them to moan out in pleasure.

"Fuck it," said House.

And he entered her, pushing her up against the dryer even more, letting the motions of the machine control their actions. She moved on top of him in tandem with the machine's rhythm, wrapping her legs around him even tighter with every passing second. Sweat dripped down the both of their foreheads, and his leg was screaming out in agony, but the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure he was experiencing. He thrust into her and her mouth connected with his jaw, her teeth scraping against his skin.

She held on to his shoulders for dear life, and at this point neither one of them could tell who was saying what, or which noises were coming from whom.

The dryer was down to it's last five minutes, and it started to shake with more power than it had before, and House exploded as she moved on top of him. His head fell to the crook of her shoulder, and his muscles contracted as he watched her head fall slightly back.

The dryer made one final buzz, and their breaths slowed as he went limp inside of her.

He gently placed her on the ground, his hands still gripping her waist. Cuddy turned in his arms, refusing to allow him to let go of her as she reached into the dryer.

She pulled out the underwear and kissed him once more, her hands falling to his chest as she said:

"You still owe me an hour and fifteen minutes."

* * *

Cuddy lounged on the bed, lying flat on her stomach as she watched him reappear from the shower. She popped a strawberry in her mouth, sighing contently as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"I can't wait to see what you get me for Hannukah," she said, greeting him as he walked back into their room, a towel wrapped around his waist, "eight days of presents, I mean. You could get me an oven mitt and we could have sex on the kitchen table, or—"

"Now who is the misogynistic asshole?" he asked, grinning at her. "And don't get this idea into your head that this is a thing we do now," he said.

"You mean have sex up against a dryer?"

She gave him a wicked smile, taking a bite of another strawberry.

"No," he said, stressing the word, "I mean exchanging valentine's day presents."

"Yes," she mused, furrowing her brow, "how awful it is to remind someone that you love them. Next thing you know people will be expecting candy on Halloween and kisses on New Year's. What a world we live in."

House rolled his eyes as he walked over to her, picking up a strawberry for himself.

"Glad we're on the same page," he said, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss. Her hand fell to his forearm, pulling him to sit down next to her.

"Why are we going out again?" asked House as he pulled his lips away from hers. "Shouldn't the two little lovebirds want to spend Valentine's Day alone?"

"We're just grabbing a drink," said Cuddy, turning over so she lay flat on her back as she ran her finger up and down her stomach, pausing as she reached the underwire to her bra. "Besides, I wouldn't worry about them wanting to be alone. Amelia bought her wedding dress today, I'm sure she went right home and had sex."

House paused, giving her a questioning look. Cuddy rolled her eyes, turning her head towards him.

"You don't really feel like you're getting married until you put the dress on for the first time," she argued, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. "And then you find yourself picturing your wedding, even if nothing is planned yet, and everything just kind of…falls into place."

Cuddy cleared her throat, flipping back to her side and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's a very emotional process," she said, her eyes darting down to the sheets.

House placed his hand on her back, rubbing it up and down gently. He paused, furrowing his brow as she gazed up at him.

"Weren't you drunk when you picked out your wedding dress?"

Cuddy slapped his arm playfully, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I am never telling you anything ever again," she said, smirking at him.

House leaned in to kiss her, her hands falling to the nape of his neck as she fell back into the pillows, her hair cascading over them.

"You didn't have to tell me anything," he said, placing light kisses to her neck. "I tasted it on your breath when you came home."

"I feel so incredibly used right now," she teased. "Letting you take advantage of me in such a state."

House hovered over, catching her lips in his as the water dripped from his head on to her chest. Cuddy arched her back, feeling his lips move from her mouth to the base of her neck, eventually landing on her chest.

"Feminists across the nation are undoubtedly revolting," he murmured against her chest, nipping at the skin that was left exposed from her bra.

Cuddy laughed, bringing a finger to his chin and lifting it up towards her. "Don't get too carried away," she ordered, feeling him nestle between her legs. "We have to leave in half an hour."

House scoffed, his hand falling to her waist. "Have you learned nothing from the past two hours?" He kissed her, smiling as she wrapped her legs around him. "A half an hour is plenty of time."

Cuddy smirked, wriggling out from underneath his grasp. House sighed, groaning out in frustration.

"Where are you going?" he asked, watching as she paused at their doorway.

"To get the stopwatch."

* * *

_Fun fact: I actually own the underwear I was describing (too much information?), and yes I bought them simply because they reminded me of Cuddy. This was such a treat to write and I hope you enjoyed it! _

_-Alison_


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